Spectacular Spider-Man - The Eagle Has Landed
by G0shD4rnG3nius
Summary: To be a superhero or not to be? That is the question facing Peter Parker when the Bald Eagle comes to town. Based on the animated Spectacular Spider-Man series that ran from 2008-2009.


**THE SPECTACULAR SPIDER-MAN**

THE EAGLE HAS LANDED

**CHAPTER ONE**

The Fresh Faces at Oscorp.

It resembled a typical day at Oscorp, Manhattan's largest technology center. A new employee was being introduced to the company's CEO. Randall Raven was a man in his 40's, stout and balding. He wore a white lab coat and a pair of glasses – well, almost a pair of glasses, for they were missing one nose guard and one arm on the right hand side. Professor Raven had taught a Nanotechnologies course at Empire State University and was also a guest lecturer from time to time at Midtown Manhattan Magnet, or M3, as the students of New York's premier high school for gifted science students like to call it. Professor Raven's research had led to some breakthroughs which the professor had hoped to explore further using lab equipment only available at Oscorp. One of the Human Resources clerks was leading Professor Raven through a corridor to where the CEO was standing, his back to the pair and talking to some other executives.

"Mr. Osborn," the clerk began, "I'd like you to meet Professor Randall Raven. He'll be joining our Health Science Division's Research and Development Team." Osborn turned around and when he did, his appearance shocked Raven for this was not Norman Osborn, founder of Oscorp, but the _new_ CEO, Harry Osborn who was filling in for his father as head of the company since his father's disappearance and presumed death at the hands of Spider-Man while the elder Osborn was trapped in the drug-addled persona of The Green Goblin. Harry was never a leader type and was obviously rattled by the prospect of suddenly being thrust into the position of running a major high tech firm with many important defense contracts to fulfill and more than a few, and some might say more important, covert weapons operations that Oscorp was on the brink of losing to rival firms, most notably ones under the control of his biggest rival, L. Thompson Lincoln. The clerk continued, "Professor Raven will be working primarily in Dr. Octavius' labs under Miles Warren's supervision."

Harry was frazzled and short with the new arrival. "Octavius, eh? Ya, well I hope you've got a cure for cancer in that little black bag of yours 'cause this company sure could use it." The other executives shifted agitatedly. They didn't like the fact that this kid was spilling sensitive financial information to an employee as new as Raven but what Harry was saying was true. Since the jailing of most of New York's major criminals, the call for Oscorp's weapon developments have all but dried up and without the flood of research dollars, the development of new tools for the defense contractors to fight over was slowing down too. It would take a miracle like a cancer cure to save the company from being lost to Lincoln.

Raven looked around briefly for this 'black bag' that Osborn had mentioned before realizing that Harry was just using a stereotypical metaphor. He then proceeded to try and comfort his new boss. "Actually, sir, I believe I am very close to developing eye drops that contain millions of nanoscopic robots that can reshape corneas and lenses in the eye, eliminating any further need for glasses. I'm using eagle eyes as a model. I should be able to improve vision to better than 20/20. Once I have working prototypes, I hope to then modify the programming so they can be able to repair cataracts, eliminate glaucoma and reattach optic nerves thus reversing blindness!" Raven was obviously very excited about the prospects for his research and he hoped some of his enthusiasm would rub off on Mr. Osborn. Unfortunately for Harry, he didn't understand half of what Professor Raven was saying. He wished he had his good friend, Peter Parker there to help translate. At least, the professor's research sounded promising. He could only hope it would be what his father's company needed to help turn it around. He also hoped against hope that it would happen sooner rather than later.

"Yes, well, it sounds very noble, professor. Keep Dr. Warren and me posted. I want weekly reports."

Raven took that as a sign of encouragement. "Yes, sir, thank you, sir. And let me once again express my appreciation for the use of such state of the art…" Randall let his words trail off for Osborn was already halfway down the corridor, executives in tow. The professor, though unimpressed with the younger Osborn, was filled with renewed cheer. He turned to the clerk who had introduced him and, even though she did not work for him, said, "Let's go cure blindness today!" She smiled at him and he took her arm and the two of them trundled off back toward the lab in a manner that would have reminded a casual observer of Dorothy and The Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz(corp).

**CHAPTER TWO**

A Sight For Sore Eyes

Randall Raven worked hard. When he wasn't giving lectures at one of the two schools he worked with, he was at Oscorp, using the company's electron microscopes to observe while he built nanobots with precision electromagnets. Once built, he wrote the code that would serve as the bots' operating system. He tested and retested the robots, rebuilding and reprogramming as necessary, refining their ability with each step. This is how he spent his days: teaching, building, programming and testing, and at night, sometimes late at night, he would go home to his family, his son, Rejean.

Rejean was 15 and attending M3. He was one year behind Harry Osborn, his father's boss. Rejean liked going to Midtown and had many friends there. His best friend was Johnny Storm. The elder Raven didn't care for Johnny much; he thought Johnny was too much of a hot head and acted up in class too much. Randall tolerated Johnny's behavior though, mostly because he did not seem to have much of an influence on how Rejean acted, but partly because Johnny's sister, Susan was one of Randall's brightest students at Midtown. Randall hoped that someday, Johnny would follow in Susan's footsteps and settle down and get to work on his studies. Professor Raven felt Johnny had the potential to burn a real path to his destiny if he put some effort into it, but for now Johnny was good company for his son while he was working the long hours.

On one of those late nights, Raven came home to find Rejean deep into his own studies – deep asleep in them, that is. Rejean had fallen asleep while laying in bed and reading a text book. Raven slipped the book out of the bed and turned out the light, leaving the room a little disappointed that he wasn't able to spend more time helping his son through his high school years. Rejean was maintaining a respectable, though not outstanding, B average in school but Randall felt his son had the potential for better grades if only he could be more available to show the boy just how exciting learning still can be. However, being the sole breadwinner in the household meant having to work and Raven felt that, for now anyway, his work had to consume him, not only for the good of his family but for the greater good of all mankind. After all, Rejean did not completely lack parental guidance.

His mother lived across town with his two sisters and Rejean stayed there every other weekend. His mother saw to it that there were always stimulating activities for the children as opposed to when they stayed with their dad when mostly what they did was play video games and socialize on the internet while Raven worked out design issues for his bots. Little did Professor Raven know that not long after this night, he was going to make the breakthrough of his career.

On the following Wednesday, Professor Raven was testing the latest programming on his nanobots and they performed excellently. They shaped the test gel into a perfect cornea. From then, further modifications went without a hitch and within a few very long days, the bots were able to do all of the eye repairs he had programmed them to do. After the lab had produced enough of the bots to make up a vial's worth, all that was left to do was test the drops on a real eye. Professor Raven had decided not to risk anyone else's vision and test the drops on himself, so that night, before bed, Raven put two drops in each eye and activated the programming.

The next day, when he woke up, Professor Raven reached for his glasses and put them on. His vision was still blurry but he attributed this to the fact that he was still very tired and may have still had sleep in his eyes. He shuffled off to the bathroom and turned the light on. He took off his glasses so that he could splash some water in his face. He ran the water over his hands and brought them to his face and rubbed it on his skin briskly. He then slid the towel off of the rod and patted his face dry. When he was finished, he looked in the mirror and that's when he noticed it. His vision was crystal clear, as good as it was when he was a young boy. In fact, it was better than that. He was seeing details he would never have been able to see before. Raven looked at his eyes in the mirror to admire these new miracles of science but what he saw were not his eyes. They did not appear football shape in his head. They were perfectly round and he could see no whites in them; they had gone from his original brown to a shade of yellow he had only seen … on eagles. They had become eagle eyes, just like the bots' programming would have been instructed to make them. The bots had done their job too well, but Professor Raven was not going to argue with the results. Raven rushed around his apartment, turning on lights and inspecting things. The level of detail that he could see gave everything a freakish quality. He could see every fiber in a piece of paper, every wave and dip in the Formica counter top. Even his skin now had a landscape about it that no longer gave it the appearance of skin; it looked more like rock, every crack and crevice absurdly exaggerated. Then the professor ran out onto the balcony of his apartment. The breaking dawn was just starting to wash New York in sunshine but already he could see it in dazzling detail, every chip and bubble in every brick, in every building! The distances that he could see were phenomenal. He could see the glow at the end of a cigarette being smoked three blocks away! To the best of his counts, Raven could see a shop owner rolling up the safety gate in front of his store 16 blocks away (and he could read the specials on the sign in the window), a couple waiting for a bus 27 blocks away and he could even make out individuals on the deck of the Staten Island Ferry!

Raven could barely contain his excitement. He bounded around the apartment, looking at everything and everything became an adventure in physical exploration. In his bedroom, Rejean Raven was just stirring to life. The older Raven thought about bursting into the boy's room to share the incredible news but then stopped himself. It wouldn't be sound scientific procedure to announce results before they had been properly tested and, if possible, repeated. But how could he hide the change in him from his son and his coworkers? He ran back into the bathroom and grabbed his glasses and put them back on. That was no good. Not only did the glasses make his vision blurry but they did not conceal the fact that Raven's eyes had physically changed in appearance. He thought quickly. He took off the glasses and broke the one good arm they had had off, and threw it away. That way he could claim the glasses were no longer wearable. Then he looked through some boxes he had in the closet until he found an old pair of sunglasses. He put them on just as his son came out of his room.

"Geez, pop, could you make any more noise?" he half mumbled. "Kinda hard for a guy to get any sleep around here," he complained. Then Rejean rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked at his dad for the first time and a smile spread across his face. "Hey, what's with the shades? Is it '80's Day' at the lab today?" he joked. "Or did you lose a bet with the other teachers at my school?"

"No, I finally did my old glasses in," Randall explained. "Musta slept on them or something. I broke the other arm off. So, for the time being, I'll be wearing these old prescription sunglasses I had around." Of course, the sunglasses were not prescription but he had to be able to hide his eyes and make it look like he still needed glasses. Raven looked up at his son, still excitedly grinning. "What do you think? Do they make me look cool?"

"Let's put it this way," Rejean began, as he made his way to the bathroom, "Tom Cruise has nothing to worry about."

**CHAPTER THREE**

Just What The World Needs

Everything in Professor Raven's world seemed revitalized and alive. His son, Rejean, was off in the kitchen making himself some breakfast while Randall was in the bathroom, getting ready work. Raven had a busy day planned. He was supposed to go to the lab for one of his weekly presentations to his bosses, Dr. Warren and young Harry Osborn, the new CEO of Oscorp, and then go to Midtown high for a lecture, then it was back to the lab to work until exhaustion set in.

The routine always started with shaving, brushing his teeth and showering. Today was different however. The whole process was going much slower due to the time he was spending examining every detail of the routine: the stress marks in the mirror glass, the cavernous pathways made by the air in his shaving cream, the volcanic pock marks in the chrome finish on his bathroom faucet. It was while he was counting the veins in the wings of a dead fly in his medicine cabinet that he noticed something else extraordinary infiltrating his consciousness. Not only could he see these details, he could smell them too: the mint in his toothpaste, the aloe in his shaving cream, the perfumes in his soap and deodorant. It wasn't just the strong scents he was detecting either. He could smell the rust in the water as it dripped from the tap. He could smell the toast, Rejean's toast, and it was just starting to burn.

"Rejean," he called, instinctively, "don't let your toast burn!" Rejean couldn't smell the toast burning and thought his dad was just being his usual, cautious self. He left the eggs he had frying and walked over to the toaster. Sure enough, the edges were just starting to get dark. Rejean popped the toast. They were perfect. Any more and they would have been overdone. How did his dad know? Randall stood very still in the bathroom, curious and excited about this new development. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply and slowly for a moment. He could smell the butter as it melted on the toast, the grease in the frying pan was beginning to burn and the eggs were snapping like they do when the whites begin to turn brown. He could _hear_ that.

"And flip those eggs!" he called to his son, waiting to hear his son's response. Rejean checked the eggs.

"I can't believe it," he muttered under his breath. Raven heard him, and the television. There was a newscast on about Oscorp.

"Turn up the TV," he called.

"I don't have the TV on," his son answered. This made the professor very curious. He put the sunglasses on and walked out into the living room. Indeed, the television was not on. Perhaps the sound was coming from an adjacent apartment. Raven stepped out onto the balcony again. This time he was bombarded with a barrage of sights and smells and sounds, many more than when he was out earlier. It was almost overwhelming: the smell of the garbage in the alley eighteen floors below, the chinking of the chains in the nets at the basketball courts three blocks away, a woman singing to her ipod while hanging her laundry on the roof of a building five blocks away and the smell of the fresh laundry. The list went on and on. It felt like he could suddenly see, smell and hear _everything_, including the television – in an apartment across the alley from his. He could see and hear the TV clearly, he could hear the family's conversation, and he could smell that they were having eggs too.

It was obvious to Raven that the bots did not stay local to the eyes but were now in his blood stream and that all of their programming was active. He did not know how such a huge mistake could have been made. Throughout the process, Raven had been very careful to add and test each small step one at a time. But now it seemed all the programming had been downloaded to the tiny bots, even the most experimental of it. The professor chalked it up to exhaustion-related oversight. He did not spend too much time contemplating the cause of his fate. He was too interested in the changes taking place within him to care very much. The bots were finished with his eyes and now on to the task of repairing and improving neural connections – all of them. The efficiency of his entire nervous system was being improved, including the millions in his brain and until the scope of these changes was fully realized, Raven felt he had better find a way to excuse himself from his commitment for a few days and stay at home to record observations of what was happening to him. He rushed back into the apartment to get a notebook, hoping he could still remember some of the developments and in what order they occurred. As he was looking, it occurred to the professor that he _could _remember the details, _all_ of them, _exactly_ as they played out. The bots were creating new neural pathways in his brain, maximizing its efficiency and reawakening all of its stored memories, new and old. Since there was no longer a rush to record results, Raven planned how to cover his absence from his obligations at Oscorp and his classrooms. He decided to call in feigning illness and asked his colleague and supervisor, Dr. Miles Warren to cover his classes. He would have called his good friend, Curt Connors to fill in but Connors recently and suddenly moved his family to Florida. Raven was surprised just how quickly and without exasperation Dr. Warren had agreed to cover his obligations, not just in the classroom but in the lab as well. After all, Dr. Warren was, perhaps, even _more_ tied up with his own research in nanotechnology. However, because there were pressures at the lab to constantly produce results, Professor Raven agreed to email instructions to his staff for the continuation of ongoing experimentation.

Professor Raven saw his son off to school and began his analysis of the changes taking place in his body. While his son was at school, Raven had determined that his senses of sight, hearing and smell and heightened to what he could only describe as superhuman levels and his reflexes had reached lightning speed but to him, none of them was the most amazing change. What the bots had done to his brain was what had Professor Raven reeling most. With all of its neurons firing and neural traffic efficiency nearly maximized, Raven was now a computational marvel, faster than any supercomputer he had ever worked on. It didn't take him long to abandon his bot research records in favor of contemplating some of the biggest questions still plaguing man today. It wasn't much after that when he realized that just being able to compute quickly didn't mean he was able to instantly know everything. He still had too much to learn about the world before he could begin solving the world's problems. In only a few hours, he had gone full circle from being a man trying to solve one problem to one who he thought could solve all problems to one who only wanted the answer to one question. What was the full potential of the human brain? Fifteen minutes before his son walked through the door, he had one answer. With his senses working and peak efficiency and his brain able to compute all the data being fed to it, Raven was able to reach an _awareness_ never known to any living man. He was able to sense energy – but not just sense it but be able to communicate with it in a way, to be able to manipulate it, and since everything is made of energy of varying states, Raven had become a man who could move or manipulate any matter in any way he saw fit. He could even move himself. He could fly. As a matter of fact, he was conducting his first levitation when his son walked through the door. Raven was concentrating so hard on the flying; he wasn't paying attention to the door. When he heard the knob turn, he panicked and, not wanting to be caught, let himself fall to the floor. Rejean walked in to see his father topple. Knowing that his dad had stayed home sick, the boy thought his father's fall might be some serious side effect of his illness and rushed over to offer aid.

"Dad, are you all right?" he called as he came to help his father up. Raven did not have his sunglasses on and they were not near him but he could sense where they were. Actually, he could sense where everything in the apartment was. He didn't want Rejean to see his eyes so he brought his hand up to his face as if he had a headache and quickly thought of a way to distract the boy.

"Yes, I'm just a little lightheaded," he explained. "Could you bring me some water?" As Rejean headed toward the kitchen for the water, Raven called for the sunglasses with his mind. The sunglasses flew from their position on the end table and into Professor Raven's hand. He put them on and stood up. He made as though he were brushing himself off when Rejean returned with the water. "Thanks," he said as he took the water. He drank the water and put the glass down. "I'm feeling a bit better now. How was school?" Raven had had a brain burning day of thinking and though he was very excited about this new ability to fly, he felt that a return to normalcy would be prudent while his son was home. He could continue his new line of experiments in the morning. In the meantime, he chatted with his son, made some dinner and, in the evening, watched a little TV. That was when he caught that Oscorp news story he had wanted to hear in the morning. It turns out Harry Osborn's life was going to return to a degree of normalcy as well. The board of directors at Oscorp voted Harry out of the CEO's position the day before. Harry would still be majority shareholder but he would no longer be in charge of the day to day operations of the company. The new CEO was a man by the name of Thomas B. Stone. The name didn't mean anything to Raven but he wondered how Stone's appointment was going to affect his position or his research. He also wondered why none of his staff had alerted him to the change. It was possible that it may be days, weeks or months before any departmental changes would be announced and his staff felt it unnecessary to bother him with trivial details, especially when he was sick. At any rate, that news was going to have to wait at least one more day while Raven played around with his new telekinetic abilities. Hopefully, after that, Raven could return to work. He was giving himself one more day to figure out what direction to take his research now that he knew what the bots could do. He realized that in the wrong hands, his discovery could be a potentially dangerous weapon and that programming and dosages should be dialed down significantly for normal human use. He had one more day to figure out how much his dose could do and how much to cut it back.

The next day, after his son was well away to school, Professor Raven took his maiden flight. At first he just floated around the apartment but as his confidence and skill level improved, he ventured further and faster. A few things soon became apparent. There was only so high he could fly before lack of oxygen became a problem and only so fast he could fly before wind burn became an issue. He decided to fashion a flight suit from materials he had around the apartment that he could modify with his mind: a bicycle helmet fortified with a stainless steel mixing bowl, an old wet suit, a shower curtain, an aluminum luggage set and a couple of kites. He molded and combined these materials into a protective and aerodynamic body armor that, when it was flight tested, worked perfectly. The only unfortunate thing about it was that it had no theme; it looked pieced together. He contemplated it for a moment. It was the bullet shaped helmet that first inspired him. If he narrowed and stretched the cone and curved the tip down a bit, it would almost resemble … a beak, and not just any beak; the beak of a bald eagle! His lifelong inspiration would be the theme of this new costume. _The Bald Eagle_, he thought. _It sounds like a superhero. _

"Why couldn't it be?" he said to himself. "I can fly. My telekinetic abilities alone would qualify me for the job. I already have superhuman senses, my reflexes are amazingly fast and I'm ten times smarter than any criminal out there." Raven was more excited about this idea than he had been about any he had had in the last several days. What this idea needed was some real world testing. _But you just can't make crime happen when you want to yet crimes take place everyday_, he thought. _How do you know where they are going to happen? If law enforcers knew this, they could be there before the crime takes place. That's why they patrol. That's why there are so many of them_ _– this city is big. One guy can't watch the whole thing at once. Or can he? _The professor started thinking like an eagle. _Where would an eagle go to watch a large area? The highest point in the area! The top of The Empire State Building!_

"From there I can get a panoramic view of the whole city," he said out loud. He quickly put on his costume and flew off, shouting as he launched from his balcony, "Look out crime world, here I come!"

**CHAPTER FOUR**

The Late Peter Parker

Peter Parker was late for his staff meeting at the Daily Bugle where he was a photographer, mainly covering crimes stopped by Spider-Man, which was convenient for Peter since he _was_ Spider-Man. Peter had spent too much time after school talking with his good friend, Gwen Stacy, and now neither the bus nor the subway was going to get him to the Bugle before his boss, J. Jonah Jameson, blew his stack. It looked like there was only going to be one way that gave him any chance of making it. Spider-Man was going to have to give him a lift.

In what seemed like seconds, Peter was changed into his Spider-Man suit and swinging. He had done spider things as Peter before, but that was very risky and for emergency situations only. Being late for work was not an emergency situation. Sometimes when he was late (yes, this wasn't the first time), Spidey had caught a ride hanging under a traffic helicopter or perched on top of a commuter train but none were heading in his direction this time so it was going to have to be the old fashioned way – building to building.

Spidey was swinging through town and making good time. _Good_, he thought, _for once I'm gonna be on time for one of these meetings._ He didn't really see the point of him being there. He was just a freelance photographer and these meetings were mainly for the benefit of full time staffers but Jameson insisted everybody on payroll had to attend. In the six months Peter had been at the bugle, he hadn't made it on time yet. Today, all of that was going to change. Or so he thought. As he was swinging toward the business district, he could hear the sound of glass breaking, alarms ringing and people shouting – a robbery in progress.

"Why ruin a perfect record," he said as he changed direction to head for the break-in, knowing that this was going to mean he would be late for his meeting, if he made it at all. "At least I'll have pictures of Spidey in action to appease old J.J," he said to himself. As he headed toward the commotion, he noticed something up ahead that at first looked like a missile. Then Spider-Man realized it was a man, a man in a bird costume, and he was really flying! (No Goblin sled, no Vulture wings, no Mysterio dragon … no webs!) About two minutes later Spider-Man arrived on the scene. There it was, the jewelry store with the broken window. Spidey looked around. About a block away was the getaway car, already stopped, and two guys trapped inside with a bag of loot. But it was _how_ they were trapped that got him the most. The spark plug wires were detached so the car would no longer run and it looked like door seams were pinched together so the doors wouldn't open. The most unusual thing was that it looked like the roof of the car was _melted_ and streams of metal ran down the windows to form makeshift bars, trapping the crooks inside. Quick, simple, genius. And no collateral damage to the city, no innocent bystanders were threatened. Spider-Man was impressed, and a little bit envious. How did this guy do it so fast? And where did he go? What, no calling card from your friendly neighborhood … Bird-Man? Did Spider-Man really have competition in the crime _fighting_ biz for once? These were just two punks knocking over a jewelry store. How would this guy fare up against Rhino or Doc Ock? Too many questions. Not enough answers yet. Spider-Man could hear sirens. The cops were on their way and Spidey's work here was done – though this time it wasn't Spidey's work – and Peter Parker had to get back to the business of … $#!+ … being late for his meeting!

As Peter rushed into the Press Room at the Bugle, he could hear Jameson shouting, "Miss Brant, if Parker isn't here in 3.8 seconds, you can tell him to pick up his last paycheck on his way to the unemployment office!" Before Betty Brant had a chance to explain to her boss that full time students are not eligible for unemployment benefits, Peter walked in.

"Sorry I'm late," Peter said.

"Parker!" Jameson shouted, "There's some do-gooder welding bad guys into their cars. I need you to get down there and take pictures before the cops cut them out!"

"But I was just," Peter began, but he caught himself before telling his boss he had already been to the crime scene, "hearing about it," he decided to say instead.

"Hearing about it!" J.J. shouted. He was always shouting. "How could you? We just caught it on the police scanner! What, did you take a helicopter to work?" Peter wanted to explain that none were heading his way but thought better of it. Instead he thought of something Jonah might believe.

"No, some, uhhh, eyewitnesses must have got on my subway. They said something about a guy flying around in a bird suit." Peter hoped the bird suit detail would side track him. It worked, sort of.

"Bird suit, eh? Well get me some pictures of him too!" Jameson realized Peter was still there and not already hard at work. "And snap to it! I don't pay you to stand around!"

As he shuffled out of the Press Room with the rest of the staff, Peter thought, _Oh great, it isn't hard enough to get pictures of myself fighting bad guys. Now I've got to get pictures of someone else doing it. That's just what I need._

**CHAPTER FIVE**

A Spidey-free Spree and JJ's Filled With Glee

For the next few days, the mysterious Bird-Man foiled one minor crime after another and Peter, as Spider-Man, always arrived too late to catch him in the act. J. Jonah Jameson was absolutely frothing at the mouth for pictures of the elusive do-gooder and if Peter didn't produce soon, he would be out of a job. With Beak-Boy on the scene, the only thing left for Spider-Man to do was rescue kittens stuck in trees and pictures of that sure weren't selling any papers.

One thing Peter noticed was that the Flying Wonder kept the same hours as Spider-Man, always making his appearances between 6 pm and 6 am. He wasn't the only one who noticed. One day, he heard a group of girls singing a song they made up about him. _In the still of night, at the scene of the crime, with his silent flight, he arrives just in time._ "Nobody ever made up a song about me," he complained to himself. What this character's nocturnal nature suggested to Peter was that he was otherwise occupied during the day. By now, Professor Raven had returned to work so now, like himself, this superhero had a secret identity in the working day world. Knowing what time of day Featherhead punched in gave Peter/Spider-Man an idea. _After pouring yourself into the tights, you gotta get to work_, he thought. _And where's the best place to look for my line of work? At the top of the city, the top of The Empire State Building!_ Spidey headed toward the Manhattan landmark as fast as he could. He wanted to be there when The Winged Wonder showed up for work.

When he arrived, the Masked Marvel was already in position, perched on the top spire of the famous skyscraper. Spider-Man came in low and from behind. He climbed silently up the side of the building. At least he thought he was silent. When he got about 20 feet away, The Bald Eagle spoke to him. "I can hear you coming, Spider-man," he said, calmly. Then, turning to face Spider-Man, the Eagle told him, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Then after a brief pause he continued, "I'm sorry for muscling in on your monopoly. You've done an excellent job of giving police officers the night off but I thought you could use a break from it for a while." Peter had heard that voice before but couldn't quite place it. He had to keep this guy talking.

"Thanks for the vacation, pal" he said, "but I wish you would have given me some notice so I could have made plans, got a little sun. I don't get much of a tan in this thing." Spider-Man crawled around and around the spire as he spoke, getting a good look at this guy's costume, seeing if he could figure out how it made him fly. One thing was obvious, based on its coloring and shape and design of the mask, it definitely was supposed to look like an eagle. "So what's with the get up," he finally had to ask, "American Eagle Outfitters have an extreme theme sale?"

"Very funny, Spider-Man," Bald Eagle responded, wryly. "No, as you can probably guess, I call myself 'The Bald Eagle'," he said. Then, with a more malevolent tone, asked, "May I call you Spidey, or can I call you … Peter?" The Eagle wasn't trying to actually sound foreboding, he was just trying to bring drama to the announcement that he had figured out Spider-Man's true identity. Peter's spider sense exploded into tingle mode and he stopped circling. "That's right, I know it's you, Peter Parker. I could peel your mask off if I wanted to prove it." Just then, Spider-Man's headpiece began rolling up his neck and over his chin. He pushed it backed down and his eyes squinted as he wondered how this overgrown eagle had pulled off _that_ trick. _Man, this guy is full of surprises_, he thought. _But it's too early to let the Petey cat out of the bag_. Spidey had to take a swim up denial.

"What makes you think my friend Peter is actually…" Spider-Man began.

"You can spare me the story you fed to the press last month, Peter," Bald Eagle said, interrupting him. "I didn't buy it then and I don't buy it now. How else could 'pictures by Peter Parker' happen so regularly? On a boat, in a dark alley, at the museum," Eagle listed. "How does a high-schooler get around town so quickly, by helicopter?" _Gee, does everybody think ol' Pete just spends his day zipping around in his own personal chopper_, Parker thought. "Look," Bald Eagle continued, "there's only one way a kid could be everywhere Spider-Man is, and that is if he _is_ Spider-Man. That's why I don't seek out the publicity. I don't need any connections made to my personal life." _So he does have a secret identity_, Peter thought. But what about his own? It was obvious that if the Eagle could roll his mask off, he could rip it off, and Spider-Man didn't feel like playing that game tonight. He spends _enough_ time repairing his costume. He didn't like the idea, but if he had any hope of figuring out who the Eagle was, he was going to have to get him to trust Spidey and that would mean being honest with him. Peter was nervous. Under his mask, beads of sweat were forming on his forehead. To his knowledge, no one else knew Spider-man's secret identity but there had to be a first time for everything.

"OK, you got me," he admitted. Spider-Man wanted to trust the Eagle but he had been burned before by someone with powers who wanted to use them for good. Colonel Jupiter still left a bad taste in his mouth. Spider-Man had never felt so vulnerable. He was also afraid for his loved ones and what his exposure might do to them. If Bald Eagle had plans to destroy him, he'd better know now. "What do you plan to do with that information?" he asked, trying not to show his fear.

"Nothing," was the simple response. "you can continue to fight crime if you want. I won't stop you. And if you happen to get there before the fight is over, you can even help." The Bald Eagle was a little too smug about his ability. He'd caught punk kids stealing cars and setting fires but how would he do against…KA-BOOOMM!

A fire ball rose up from the ground at the harbor. Something either in a warehouse or on board one of the docked ships had exploded with enough force that the shockwave was felt even where the two superheroes were perched high above midtown. Spider-Man and The Bald Eagle looked at each other. Bald Eagle spoke first.

"Shall we?" he asked, with all the certainty of a seasoned vet, yet he had only been in the superhero for a few days. He obviously loved it, and, strangely, Peter thought, it seemed to suit him. The Eagle rose up off the building and hovered there. _How does he do that?_, Spidey wondered. "Want a lift?" Eagle asked, knowing that otherwise he would arrive at the scene well before the spider. Spider-Man felt that if they were going to be working together, they may as well get started. He squirted a short stream of web at the eagle's chest and hung beneath him. _He adjusted to my weight without sagging_, Spider-Man thought. _What kind of flight suit doesn't need to adjust to added weight?_

Bald Eagle took off. Quickly and smoothly he accelerated to a speed Spider-Man could only equate to that of a drag racer. _This was the way to fly,_ he thought, _point to point in a straight line – no veering back and forth; no using up web supply just to get to work, leaving precious little to fight the baddies with – just smooth sailing. _ Spider-Man had imagined, briefly, the two of them swooping in on a crime scene, he on Bald Eagle's back, and jumping off when they arrived and wiping up the floor with the bad guys. _But would Bald Eagle settle for being Spidey's ride? Probably not,_ he concluded. Then he wondered how fast The Bald Eagle could fly. Spider-Man had never gone so fast. Even his tight-fitting costume was flapping in the wind; any faster and it might start tearing. Spider-Man looked up to see how The Eagle's suit was holding up. That's when Spidey noticed something that struck him as funny. Under the paint, he could make out a Samsonite logo. The Bald Eagle's body armor was made from recycled luggage! _Another superhero in a homemade costume_, he thought. The body armor was aerodynamic and wind resistant. It was built for speed but not protection. Suitcases, even aluminum ones, aren't very bullet proof. Still, the Eagle probably could have flown a lot faster. _Was he holding back for my … safety? _Spidey wondered. Now he was sure that this guy was the 'take charge' type and Spider-Man was only, and at this time literally, slowing him down.

As they approached the site of the explosion, they could see a cargo ship, half blown apart and on fire, taking on water and going down. Crewmen were diving off the ship from a lower deck. Others were trapped on an upper deck that was rapidly being surrounded by flames. The Bald Eagle had to decide quickly, one of them should rescue the crew and the other should look for other survivors trapped below decks. If there was anyone below, they had to be found fast and they might be trapped by wreckage that needed to be moved. The Eagle decided he would be better suited for the search and rescue while Spider-Man could take care of slinging the ones on top off of the ship.

"You take care of these ones," The Bald Eagle directed, dropping Spider-Man on the upper deck, "and I'll go below and look to see if there are any others." The Eagle took a second to survey his surroundings. The ship was carrying liquid propane tanks that must have accidentally caught fire and exploded. Unfortunately for them, not all of the tanks were destroyed. Two large tanks at the other end of the ship were sweating and swelling. If the condensation vaporized, it would ignite blowing what was left of the ship and the two heroes to bits. "Hurry!" was all The Eagle took time to yell before blasting his way below.

While The Bald Eagle was down looking for any remaining crew, Spider-Man was busy with the ones on top. He shot some web netting between two warehouses on the dock. Then, he shot a line to each of two poles, one on either side of the survivors and formed a giant sling shot with him as the cup. He shot the crew members to the netting on the deck. The Bald Eagle was finishing his search below when, even over the crackling flames and small explosions happening all over the ship, he could hear the large propane tanks on deck creaking. They were about to blow. Ha had to act fast. He flew straight up, pushing everything out of his way with his mind. When he reached the top deck, Spider-Man, who'd just sent the last crewman flying to safety yelled, "All clear!"

"Not yet!" the Eagle warned, and he made a beeline for the spider. Spider-Man braced himself for a collision with The Bald Eagle but it didn't happen. The Eagle came to a dead stop, hunching directly over him just as the two propane tanks blew. Spider-Man could see the flames surrounding them on all sides but he couldn't feel the heat. He couldn't _hear_ the explosion either. As a matter of fact, he couldn't hear anything. It was completely silent. He wondered if he'd been rendered deaf by the blast. Spider-Man looked around. He saw what he could only describe as _wind_ made of the waves like the ones he saw coming off of hot surfaces in the summer time emanating from the two of them and forming what he concluded was an energy bubble around them, protecting them from the explosion. _That was some cool superhero stuff,_ he thought. For the first time since he became Spider-Man, he felt _he_ was the one being rescued. Then something began to change. The energy bubble began to shrink and dissipate. As it dissolved away, the heat and noise rushed back in. They had survived the blast but now they had to escape the flames. With no time to think, Bald Eagle swept Spider-Man up under his arm and flew them off of what has left of the rapidly sinking ship. He landed them on the deck where he dropped Spider-Man and stood there, stooped over and heaving from the excitement. That was, by far, the greatest test of Bald Eagle's powers yet and he not only survived but got Spider-Man out alive as well. The feeling was empowering. He had a rush of adrenaline flowing through him and under his mask, he was grinning like a schoolboy who had just scored his first kiss.

Spider-Man got up and brushed himself off, checking to see which parts were still rare and which ones were well done. Then he extended a hand to The Bald Eagle. "Thanks," he said, "I owe you a big one." Bald Eagle shook his hand and looked at Spider-Man, his yellow eyes wide with pride. From his posture, Bald Eagle could tell Spider-Man wasn't feeling quite right. The Eagle was correct. Spider-Man felt The Bald Eagle had been the hero here, while he was simply … the sidekick. What was worse was that this was going to be the best opportunity to he was going to have to ask him for a huge fanboy favor. Fire trucks were on their way and Spider-Man had to catch him before the Eagle took off. "Hey, Bald Eagle," Spider-Man called, acknowledging the superhero name out loud for the first time, "I know you don't like the publicity, but my job is on the line. Do you mind if I grab a quick photo?" he asked, as he took the camera from a pouch in his belt. As Professor Raven, he had kids of his own and he hated to see them disappointed when they needed help. Peter Parker was a good kid, and a good student. He had been to Raven's seminars at Midtown High. Raven knew how hard it was to be a good student and hold down a part-time job so he agreed to help Peter out.

"Sure," he said, "take one of me and one of the two of us together, the new crime fighting duo in town," even though what they fought this time wasn't really a crime. Spider-man snapped the pics. The sirens were getting close. Bald Eagle turned to Spider-Man. "Well, I gotta go," he said.

"Me too," Spider-Man said, and he turned to go.

"Listen," Bald Eagle called, before Spider-Man had a chance to get away, "I hope we get a chance to work together again." It felt good to Spider-Man that Bald Eagle didn't see him as a sidekick, but rather as an equal.

"Me too," Spider-Man said again, "and maybe next time, we'll get some Chinese. I've suddenly lost my appetite for barbeque."

"Ya, that was pretty close," Bald Eagle agreed. "Another nanosecond and we would have been toast." They could see the lights of the fire trucks approaching. "See you, Spider-Man," the Eagle said as he flew off.

Spider-Man put his hand up and gave a half-hearted wave but his mind was elsewhere. "_Nano_second," he said to himself. It was the way Bald Eagle said that word. Spidey had heard it said before, and recently, but he couldn't place it. No time to contemplate it now; the sound of fire truck engines told him it was time to disappear.

"The Bald Eagle!" J. Jonah Jameson yelled, as he looked at the pictures Peter Parker had taken. "What's more American than a Bald Eagle?" he asked, loudly. "Let's run with the Eagle on the front page!" he yelled to the managing editor. "I can see the headline now – THE EAGLE HAS LANDED!"

"What about the other one, JJ?" Peter asked. "The one with Spider-Man in it. He was there too."

"Garbage, kid," Jameson said as he through the photo in the trash. "Don't need it. For all I know, Spider-Man was the one who started the fire."

"But Spider-Man was the one who got the crew off the boat!" Peter protested. "He got his picture taken _with_ The Bald Eagle!"

"Listen, kid," Jameson told Parker, "you're off the Spider-Man detail. I only want pictures of The Bald Eagle from now on. I don't want the Webhead dirtying the Bugle's pages any more, you got that?"

"Yes, sir," Peter said, dejectedly, as he hung his head and shuffled out of the office. As he left, he could hear JJ yelling orders to the layout department.

"I want a big American flag with the Eagle's face front and center!" he was heard calling. _Great_, Peter thought, _the superhero biz just got easier but my job at the Bugle just got way harder. I'm gonna have to spend all my time as Spider-Man being The Bald Eagle's paparazzi! At least my love life is staying the same,_ he lamented, _consistently in the dumpster._

**CHAPTER SIX**

The Late Spider-Man

Peter Parker was always late: late for school, late for work, late for dates (when he had dates). But Spider-Man was never late. Like a streak of light, _he_ arrives just in time. So it was very irksome for him to constantly be behind The Bald Eagle to the scene of a crime. It was starting to give Spidey an _inferiority_ complex. And it was particularly galling when the Eagle had the nerve to rub it in.

"You're five minutes late," he chided one night as Spider-Man arrived to find that Bald Eagle had already trapped a trio of men attempting to torch an ATM out of a bank. Another time, Spidey arrived to find Eagle tapping his wrist as if he were wearing a watch, indicating that, once again, the flying foe fighter had to wait around for him to show up. At least he _was_ willing to wait, and he was nice enough to stand for photos but it sure didn't make for a fulfilling use of Spider-Man's time. It was one thing for Peter Parker to lose sleep and miss study time when he was putting bad guys away or rescuing people from dangerous situations but it was another thing to miss out on his _life_ to be The Bald Eagle's _entourage_. It was apparently becoming no fun for The Bald Eagle as well.

After one unusually busy night for him (he had stopped a gang-related shoot-out, rescued a mother and child from a car that had lost control and driven into the harbor – the car company would later issue a recall on their accelerators – and freed a family of kidnap victims), The Bald Eagle grabbed Spider-Man and took him to the rooftop of an abandoned building for a serious talk. "Look, Pete," the Eagle began (Spider-Man hated being called by his secret identity name); "I thought it would be cool for us to work together but I can't keep waiting for you to show up. I mean, what do you want me to do, pick you up at your Aunt May's house on the way? I'm already helping you with your job at the Bugle by letting you grab a couple of photos but that's going to have to stop too. I'm sorry. I've got a life too. I've got work to do. I probably have somewhere to be _right now_ and I can't be there because I have to be here _babysitting_ you." The Bald Eagle knew that last comment hurt and he was instantly sorry he had made it. He had been burning the candle at both ends for the last couple of weeks, trying to be productive at work, fighting crime at night and still making time for his kids. He was tired and grumpy and taking it out on Peter. But what he said was true. The Bald Eagle proved himself to be faster and more efficient at fighting crime than Spider-man. Certainly, it didn't take a Bald Eagle to capture every two-bit thug in the city but it didn't take a Spider-man either. That's what the police were for. When it was time for a superhero to step in, Bald Eagle was the better choice, and both of them knew it. Bald Eagle took a breath and continued, "Sorry. I didn't mean that. But you and I both know that it only takes _one_ of us to do what _really_ has to be done. Why don't you let me handle it for a while? Why don't you go on that vacation you were talking about and, you know, get some sun?" Under the Eagle mask, he was smiling and Spider-Man could tell. Spider-Man hadn't said a word but instead was just letting the Eagle's words soak in. He couldn't believe that, less than eight months after he became this city's first superhero, something better (?) had come along and he was being asked to retire. The Bald Eagle continued his speech. "Peter, you're only sixteen. Surely there must be something else you'd rather be doing with your life. Maybe there's a girl you're interested in. Now that Mark Allan is cooling off in prison, I hear that Mary Jane Watson is available." As Professor Raven, The Bald Eagle knew a little about the romantic goings-on at Peter's school. But if he was going to suggest anyone for Peter Parker, it should be his star pupil. "Or how about Sue Storm? You boys treat her like she is invisible. She's quite attractive, you know, and very intelligent. The two of you would make a marvelous couple. That girl is really gonna make something of herself someday, you wait and see."

Under his Spider-Man head piece, Peter Parker cracked a smile. He was upset at Bald Eagle's suggestion that Spider-Man should get out of the superhero game but he was flattered that the Eagle thought enough about Peter Parker to suggest someone nice for him. When he finally managed to say something, it was to comment on The Bald Eagle's matchmaking ability. "Just because you can fly, it doesn't mean that you're Cupid," he said, still grinning.

The Bald Eagle got serious again. "Well, think about it anyway," he replied. Then, as if on cue, an alarm began ringing in the distance. Bald Eagle floated up off the roof. He looked down at Spider-Man and told him, "I'm not going to offer you a ride." He turned to fly off toward the alarm, then paused and turned back to add, "And I'm not going to wait for you afterwards." Then, Bald Eagle was gone.

Spider-Man did not go after him. He went home to think about Bald Eagle's speech. It saddened him to realize how much sense it made. And it wasn't only girls Peter would have more time for studies, sports (his spider powers would make him the star of any team), Aunt May, work (although, if he were rendered unable to get pictures of Bald Eagle, he might lose his job at the Bugle – but he could get a different job, one where the boss doesn't yell all the time) and his other friends. He hadn't had much time to spend with Harry since he lost his position as CEO of Oscorp. Luckily, he's had Gwen to help him through this difficult period. Harry and Gwen had stayed together despite Gwen's confession to Peter that she really loved him mostly because of how much Harry needed her support. Now that he had been relieved of his duties at his dad's company, maybe Harry could get back into more of a normal routine at school and home and Gwen could finally find a way out of Harry's life and into Peter's. In the meantime, it was the single life for Pete. _Speaking of that_, Spider-Man thought, spider senses suddenly tingling, _how did Bald Eagle know so much about MJ's love life or this other girl he mentioned, this Sue Storm?_ It was something he was going to have to consider. But first he had something bigger to consider, retirement.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Along Came a Spider, And a Major Decider

After he got home, Peter took a shower, got dressed and went out onto the back porch. He hadn't been home this nearly in quite a while and it was good to get some quiet time to think. Peter stood there and stared out at the night. After a moment, he noticed a spider making a web nearby. He turned to look at it and the spider froze. It seemed to be staring back at him, all eight eyes trained on him. _Eight eyes_, Peter thought, _and eight legs_. Peter considered all the things about the spider that made it, well, a spider. Then he wondered, _what if the spider DNA that was coursing through his veins hadn't stopped where it did? What if he had developed eight eyes, or eight legs, or giant jaws in the front? _He would still have his spider ability. He would still be able to fight crime. He could still be Spider-Man.

Peter had been given a great gift when he was bitten in Dr. Connors' lab, the day he became this Spider-Man. However, Peter had all too rarely thought about the other great gift he had been given – the ability _not _to be Spider-Man. Sure, the spider DNA had changed him but not so much that he couldn't just be Pete when he wanted to, when he _needed_ to. And _that _allowed him to keep his loved ones safe – Aunt May, Harry, MJ, and Gwen. Thinking about Gwen reminded him that she had already been threatened. Venom knew how much he cared for her and used her to get to him. Aunt May had already had a heart attack. What if Venom had got to her first? He felt responsible for Uncle Ben's death. He couldn't have hers on his conscience too.

Maybe the Eagle was right. Maybe quitting the crime-fighting game _was _the only thing he could do to keep his friends and family safe. Maybe then he could concentrate more on being a man and less on being the Spider-Man. Maybe it _would _give him the opportunity to do the things that just an ordinary teenager likes to do, like dating for instance, and being able to _show up _for a date for once. Maybe he would finally have a chance to make up his mind about Liz or Gwen or maybe he could take the Eagle's advice and find out what's so fantastic about this Sue Storm.

Peter had decided. He wasn't going to retire the red and blue onesie entirely, just take a vacation from Spider-man for a bit, let The Bald Eagle run the show for a while and see if the rookie had what it took to fill his tights. Maybe if the old man couldn't hack it, he'd step in lend a hand but, at least for the time, it was going to be nice just to take a break. However, as soon as he had settled on this course of action, something in the pit of his stomach began to churn, letting him know that, at least at first, he shouldn't keep that Spidey sense anywhere where he couldn't get at it. He looked at the spider again. It was still frozen, staring at him as if asking Peter if he was making the right decision.

"What are you looking at?" Peter said to the bug, "I know what I'm doing."

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

An Eagle Extorted

Peter Parker didn't know what to do with all the spare time he suddenly found himself with. Since The Bald Eagle became the new sheriff in town, Peter's regular nightly activity had been put on hold. And since Spider-Man wasn't on the scene, Peter neither had Spidey pictures (JJ wouldn't have wanted them anyway) nor could he keep up with The Bald Eagle to take pictures of him, and, since Jameson told him not to show up without Eagle shots, he didn't have much to do at The Bugle either. Aunt May was always busy with her publisher, promoting her cook book and working on writing her second one. She was even considering writing a novel! Harry and Gwen were spending more time together since Harry had been let go at Oscorp, and though Peter and Gwen took as many opportunities as possible to sneak time together until Gwen could find the right time to break it off with Harry, their 'play dates' at Dr. Warren's ESU lab were put on hold while the lab worked on top secret biological weapons for Oscorp which was now under the direction of the mysterious Thomas B. Stone. So, with no Spider-Man, no Aunt May, no friends and no job to distract him, Peter had lots of time to think. That's exactly what he was doing one day when Mary Jane Watson sauntered over to chat. Peter was sitting under a tree in the yard at M3, rapt in the contemplation of nothing in particular and was making a repetitive saw tooth pattern in the dirt with a twig.

"Hey, Tiger," Mary Jane greeted him. Peter didn't respond at first so she tried again. "Earth to Peter," she said, louder this time. This time Peter stopped doodling and looked up.

"Oh, hey, MJ," he said. Then, indicating his scratches in the dirt, said, "I was just…" he began, thinking he had an explanation for the marks, but he didn't. "… nothing," he said, leaving it at that. "What's up? Have you seen Mark?" Peter was referring to Mark Allan, the boy Mary Jane was seeing until Oscorp had turned him into one of their manufactured baddies, Molten Man, and he was sent to prison for arson, reckless endangerment and attempted murder – not to mention underage gambling, which is what he had spent six months in juvenile detention for previously.

"I finally got visitation rights so I went to see him last night," she told him. "I only got fifteen minutes with him."

"How was he?" Peter asked. "Is he all right? How is he feeling?" Peter was very concerned for Mark. After all, Mark was Peter's old girlfriend, Liz's brother. After Spider-Man defeated Molten Man, allowing for Mark's capture, Liz turned to Peter for support while she hated Spider-man for not helping her brother more. This was a very difficult time for Peter but, unfortunately, it wasn't his only two-sided relationship. After Green Goblin's defeat which resulted in his alter ego, Norman Osborn's death, Harry, who was one of Peter's best friends, swore revenge on Spider-Man.

"He's very angry, Pete," Mary Jane told him. "This whole thing was not his fault. Sure, he was gambling, and that's not good, but what happened after that is what's got him so mad." Peter suddenly found himself sitting up, hanging on MJ's every word. Mary Jane usually played it cool so if she was this upset, it must be big. "Mark owed this guy a lotta money," she continued, "and in order to pay it back, he was forced to test this serum filled with these nanothingies that made his skin turn to molten hot armor!" Acid started to churn in the pit of Peter's stomach. Mary Jane's story became more frantic as she sensed Peter's deep agitation. "He said The Green Goblin was behind the whole scheme." Parker's Spidey sense exploded. "And do you know what the kicker is?" Mary Jane asked. _There's more?_ Peter thought. "The guy who created the serum," she revealed, "was your boss at ESU, Dr Warren!" Peter couldn't take anymore. He had work to do. Oscorp was back in the business of building superzeroes and only one webslinger had the experience to stop it. Vacation was over.

"Wow, thanks for telling me, MJ," Peter said as he began to get up off the ground. He was trying to think of an excuse to leave quickly. "But I gotta go. I just remembered … it's Aunt May's, uhh, Mahjong night and I, uhh, sent her tiles out to be cleaned and I gotta go pick 'em up." He put his hand down to push himself up and as he looked down for a good place top put his hand, he noticed his scribbling in the dirt. His saw teeth were partly rubbed away and the few that remained looked like letters – NANO. _Nano_, Peter thought. _What was it Mary Jane said was in the serum? Nanothingies! Peter had heard the prefix elsewhere, but where? The Eagle! When he said 'nanosecond'. Was it related? What did it mean? Could Miles Warren be the Bald Eagle?_ Peter had to find out and he knew just who could help him.

Meanwhile, at Oscorp, Professor Raven was presenting his weekly progress report to Dr. Warren and, by teleconference, to Thomas Stone. This was the second progress report Raven had submitted since his 'illness' and decision to take his research in 'a different direction.' After Raven's team had been dismissed, Dr. Warren asked the professor to stay back for a minute to have a quick chat with him.

"Mr. Stone and I are more interested in your earlier experimentation," Warren told him.

"My earlier work was far too ambitious," Raven explained. "I could never build the bots big enough to handle nerve repair and process the software required, yet small enough to stay suspended in saline droplets – even with the fantastic equipment Oscorp has so generously allowed me to have access to." Professor Raven hoped that the argument was enough to dissuade this line of questioning from his boss but just for good measure added, "I think the simpler bots I'm designing to reshape lens material show much more promise."

"Oh, I think you had much more success with your earlier models than you are telling me," Warren said, this time much more ominously. _Can he tell I'm lying?_ thought Raven. Professor Raven knew well what Miles Warren's level of expertise in nanotechnologies was, but he didn't know how much Warren knew about his pre-Eagle work. He was about to find out. "Who do you think dumped all the software into those bots you took, Randall?" Warren leaned in and looked Raven right in the eyes. Professor Raven was wearing specially colored contact lenses to conceal the yellow in his eyes. Warren knew about this too. "And take off those ridiculous contacts. You look like a mannequin whose eyes are painted on." Miles turned and took a few steps away. Then he stopped and turned back to Raven. "Mr. Stone has a little job for The Bald Eagle," he said with a grin that reminded Randall of the devil, "and I suggest he do it. Eighteen floors is a long way to fall for a boy who can't fly," Warren said before leaving the meeting room. He was, of course, referring to Raven's son, Rejean.

Peter was looking for Harry Osborn. He tried phoning Harry at home but Harry wasn't home. Pete tried his cell, but Harry wasn't answering it. He followed a hunch and went to Gwen's house. When he got there, he rang the bell. Gwen answered the door. Pete hadn't seen enough of her lately and at first he just stood and smiled at her.

"Hi, Peter," she said, her blue eyes twinkling in the sunlight that shone on the doorway. Peter loved those eyes, and he could see them better since Gwen wasn't wearing her glasses. Peter took a moment just to look at them.

"Hi, Gwen," he said finally. "Sorry for staring. I'm just not used to seeing you without your glasses."

"Ya, the contact lenses," Gwen explained.

"I think I like the glasses better," Peter admitted. _Guys make passes at girls with glasses_, Peter thought, remembering the corny, old expression.

"I could never wear them before, because of my prescription," Gwen told him, "but Harry bought them for me. They're some sort of special design from Oscorp." From the way Gwen spoke, Peter could tell she was ashamed accepting expensive gifts from someone she had no plans of staying with. "I try to have them in when Harry's around," she explained. That reminded Peter why he was there.

"Is Harry here," Peter said. "I've been looking for him. He's not answering his cell."

"He's in the back helping my dad barbeque hotdogs on the deck," she told him, then, with a smile, admitted, "and by helping, I mean watching." They both snickered to one another as they walked to the back.

When Harry saw the giggling couple walk out, he felt jealous. He knew they were planning to be together. He overheard Gwen confess her love for Peter but Gwen meant a lot to him. She was there for all of his trouble, especially his dad's death and before that, his addiction to Globulin Green. Gwen was Harry's first girlfriend and he wasn't ready to give her up yet, even if it meant manipulating her feelings and always appearing to need her to keep her from leaving him. Still, Peter was one of his best friends and he tried to remain affable.

"Hey, Pete," he called with a feeble wave, "what brings you here?"

"You do, actually," Peter explained. "I need a favor." Peter had come up with an excuse to see Dr. Warren's lab at Oscorp, hoping that, once in, he might find something linking him to Mark Allan or The Goblin. He hoped Warren was not The Bald Eagle. He trusted The Eagle, and after the Connors' left, and after MJ's story, he no longer trusted Miles Warren.

"Sure, what's up?" _Anything you want, ol' buddy_, he thought, _as long as it's not Gwen._ Before Peter had a chance to answer, Gwen's dad, George Stacy, who was a police captain, spoke up.

"Hello, Peter," Captain Stacy said, holding a wiener on the end of a barbeque fork. "Hotdog?" he offered.

"No thanks, Captain Stacy," Peter said. "I'll have to take a rain check."

"All right, then," Stacy said, putting the wiener in a bun and placing in a platter with others. "The guys down at the force," the captain began again, "sure are missing Spider-Man. You seen him lately?" he asked Peter.

"No sir," Peter said, thinking how strange this line of questioning was, "I, uhh, haven't bumped into him."

"Well, if you do," Stacy said, looking directly into Peter's eyes, "let him know we'd be glad if he decided to stick around."

"Thanks," Peter said, wondering how much Captain Stacy knew, "I'll tell him." Peter looked at George Stacy's face for a moment, trying to get a read on it. There was no obvious change in expression that allowed Peter to know what the police captain was up to with his comments. After a moment, Peter turned his attention back to Harry. "Harry," he said, trying to make it sound important, "can you get me into Oscorp? I need to see Miles Warren."

"Sure I can," Harry boasted, "I used to be the CEO." Harry excused himself from barbecue duties and left with Peter. "What do you need to see Dr. Warren about, Pete?" Harry asked. Peter hadn't thought his mission that far ahead and came up with the first excuse he could.

"I, uhh, left my calculator at ESU and, ummm, I need Dr. Warren to let me in to get it," was his story. Harry stopped walking and stopped Peter with the back of his across Peter's chest.

"You want me to leave barbeque hotdogs at my girlfriend's house to drive you to place I no longer work to see a preeminent scientist so you can get your calculator back?" This story sounded ludicrous to Harry. "There are calculators built into every computer at school, and that's not good enough, there are a million calculators online – and every computer is online!" Harry countered. This story would have sounded stupid to anyone but it was all Peter had in the barrel, and he was starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel.

"It's my _lucky_ calculator?" he offered. Harry decided to bring Peter to Oscorp, not because he bought the calculator story but to find out what Peter _really_ had up his sleeve. Besides, it had been a while since he and Pete had done anything together, just the two of them

Harry and Peter entered Oscorp through a back entrance that his dad used to use to avoid the press or any other time he didn't want anyone to know he was in. From there they made their way to Dr. Warren's lab. The doctor was clearly not in but Harry granted him access and kept a close eye on him while they were there. Inside, Peter saw all he needed to see. He found Professor Raven's nanobot research and eagle studies but, thinking that they belonged to Dr. Warren, wrongly concluded that _Warren_ was the Eagle. If Warren was the Eagle and Warren was responsible for destroying Mark Allan's life (and the Eagle _did_ mention Allan was in prison), then The Bald Eagle had to be stopped. Peter knew just the guy for the job. It looked like it was time to unpack the red and blue jammies. Spider-man was back, baby!

**CHAPTER NINE**

A Case of Mistaken Secret Identity

Spider-Man decided the best place to confront The Bald Eagle would be at his favorite before work hangout, the top of The Empire State Building. Spider-Man camped out behind a noisy rooftop air conditioning unit downwind of Empire State so the Eagle couldn't see, hear or smell him coming. The element of surprise was the only advantage Spider-man had. Though he was physically more powerful than The Bald Eagle, the bird's telepathy could trump that if he got a chance to use it. Spidey had concocted a low percentage plan to defeat The Eagle but before he could execute it, he had to find a way to render him unconscious.

The Bald Eagle arrived shortly after six o'clock and took his usual spot on the top spire. As luck would have it, he chose to face the other way. Spider-man sprung into action. Running out from behind the a/c unit, he dived off the roof and swung between the two buildings that separated him and The Empire State Building. He hoped that rooftop unit was noisy enough to mask his web shooters. He was in luck again. But fickle fate interceded. The Eagle turned to survey the sector Spidey approached from. He wasn't able to stop the impact from Spider-Man but he was able to brace for it. _No luck knocking him out_, Spider-Man thought. _Gotta keep him occupied so he doesn't have time to come up with a defense strategy._ The Bald Eagle did manage one reaction.

"Spider-Man," he gasped, "what are you doing? I thought we were friends!" Spider-man didn't respond. He had to concentrate on his attack. Spidey's first strike had knocked the two of them off the top of the skyscraper. With a tight grip on the Eagle with one arm, Spider-Man squirted a short web stream to the nearest wall and swung his quarry into it with full force. The Bald Eagle caught sight of the wall in the corner of his eye and managed to at least loosen the bricks before the two entwined superheroes crashed through. Spider-Man landed on top of Eagle on the floor of the office they had broken into. The Bald Eagle's suitcase of armor was heavily dented and, judging from the way he wheezed, was restricting his breathing. Eagle popped the chest piece back into shape with his mind. Spider-Man wondered briefly why Warren, with all the resources available to him at Oscorp, chose to make such a shoddy homemade outfit to go out in public with. He didn't have time to think about it too much. Eagle was trying to get into an offensive position. Spider-Man lassoed The Bald Eagle's feet and tried swinging him into the office wall. But as Spidey had figured, his strength was no match for Bald Eagle's telepathy. The Eagle floated there, fully able to resist Spider-Man's pull. The Bald Eagle was gaining the upper hand. Spider-Man had to act fast. He released a salvo of his favorite tricks. He started with a quick web shot to the face, blinding The Eagle. He knew it was a temporary measure and was prepared when Bald Eagle ripped the web from his face. His next move was to shoot a web on either side of his foe's head, fooling him into thinking he'd miss, then, actually grabbing something behind his enemy and hitting him with it from behind. Spider-Man looked at the area of the office behind Bald Eagle. It was empty – no tables, no chairs, no heavy office equipment. What kind of office was this? Spidey thought. Apparently, it was the only unoccupied office space in all of midtown Manhattan. There was a phone on the wall. It was worth a try. It was Spider-man's only move left; the Eagle was raising a hand to direct his mental energy. He shot his webs. Bald Eagle looked away and put his hand in front of his head, expecting another round to the face. The webs missed his head. Bald Eagle put his hand back in place to use his telepathy on Spider-Man. Spidey pulled on his target and the phone ripped off the wall and hit Bald Eagle in the back of the head. It didn't knock him out, but it did hurt – and it knocked his helmet off. Eagle was quick to retaliate. He pushed his hand toward Spider-Man, sending him flying into the far wall.

As Spider-Man crashed into the wall, he saw that the face under the mask was Professor Raven's. Peter Parker had attended Raven's seminars at M3. "You're not Warren," he gasped. The Bald Eagle didn't immediately attack Spider-Man again. He wanted to make sense of what Spider-Man just said.

"Warren," he said, puzzled. "Miles Warren?" he asked. The Bald Eagle put his hand down. He wanted to hear what Spider-Man had to say. "You thought I was Miles Warren?"

"Ya," Spider-Man said, rubbing his head, "I guess it was a simple case of mistaken secret identity."

"You call this _simple_?" Bald Eagle said with a chuckle as he indicated the destruction around them. It was obvious to the Eagle that the fight between him and Spider-Man was over. He picked up his head piece and examined the damage to the back. He looked at Spider-Man with ridicule and asked, "Did you try to smash me with a phone?"

"Ya," Spider-Man said, scratching his head, "it was something I saw on TV." There was a break in the banter for a minute, giving time for Spider-Man to analyze what he had just learned. Raven was the Eagle. That explained why he had the homemade costume and knew about Sue Storm, the two things Spider-Man could not connect to Miles Warren. There were still too many questions left unanswered, not the least of which were the questions of how the professor came to have these fantastic powers and why Warren seemed to be holding all the cards now. First thing was first. "Tell me professor," Spider-Man asked, "how did you, you know, _become_ The Bald Eagle?"

The Bald Eagle now realized why Spider-Man didn't like him using Spidey's secret identity name. It left him with an uneasy feeling, a feeling like suddenly he was unprotected, like someone else might hear his real name and use the information – like Miles Warren was doing to him. "You've been to my seminars," he said in a low, soft voice. "You know that I'm always encouraging science students to get into the field of nanotechnology, that it's the new 'science of the future.'" Spider-Man nodded. "Well," Raven continued, "I was working on a series of nanobots designed to cure a number of eyesight ailments." Raven hung his head in shame. "I broke the first rule of science, Peter. I used the prototypes on my own eyes. I didn't know it, but Warren had overloaded the bots with software that caused them to supe me up like some hot rod human. Now Miles is going to force me to use my ability to commit crimes for Thomas Stone." Raven's expression went from shame and fear to one of anger and he put the Eagle head back on. "They threatened my son, Spider-Man. I came up here to think, to decide what to do, and I think I know." The Bald Eagle turned to leave out the hole in the office wall.

"Eagle, wait!" Spider-Man called. The Eagle had answered his first two questions but the last thing he said begged a third. "Who is Thomas Stone?" he asked.

"Thomas B. Stone," Eagle answered, "the new CEO of Oscorp."

Spider sense went into overdrive. Spider-Man knew instantly what this meant. _Thomas B. Stone_, he thought, _Tom B. Stone – Tombstone! L. Thompson Lincoln's nom de guerre. Lincoln was running Oscorp from prison and was looking to get back into the big bad boy business, and Raven was his latest guinea pig. If he got his hands on this technology, he could create an unstoppable army of supermen and the whole world would be his._

"I want to help you," Spider-Man said, with a dead serious determination.

**CHAPTER TEN**

'EMP'loyee of the Month

One of the many benefits the bots afforded Randall Raven was the ability to consider all possibilities and calculate all outcomes when a certain set of circumstances were set into motion. Raven was about to put his own set of circumstances into motion and he hoped had considered all the possibilities. Raven had called Miles Warren and told him to gather some investors together to see a demonstration of what the nanobots would be capable of. He promised that the show would be impressive and that after it, the research, the prototypes and his services would be all Warren's – for a share of the wealth, of course. Warren had no idea that Raven was so profit driven, but he could respect that, so he agreed to arrange the meeting but he warned Raven that the presentation had better not be disappointing or there would be consequences. Raven happily agreed. His only request was that the demonstration not be held in his lab but in an adjacent building because it contained a larger lab and, as Raven put it, a spectacle of this magnitude needed all the space it could get. Warren assured that the requested lab would be made available and a time was set the next day for Raven's presentation. Warren was relieved to see that Raven had come around to his way of thinking and that if he could demonstrate even a small amount of what he read The Bald Eagle could do, he would be able to secure billions of dollars of new investment in Oscorp which, in turn, would mean he personally would be richly rewarded. It impressed Warren that Thomas Stone's pockets were, perhaps, even deeper than those of his previous benefactor, Norman Osborn.

The next day, the security at Oscorp was the tightest its employees had ever seen. Armies of personal security workers rained down on the corporation, many brandishing automatic weapons. About a dozen finely appointed v.i.p.s had gathered in a large lab in the Department of Nuclear Medicine, specifically, the lab directly next to the reactor. This wasn't a power generating reactor but rather, it was used to produce radioactive isotopes which were essential to the research being performed there. The group had been waiting for quite a while and the time for the start of the demonstration had come and gone and the thought of being next to a nuclear reactor made some of the investors a little nervous. Warren began to fidget. If Raven had stood him up, not only would his son be dead, he would be too. Before too long, Raven did arrive. He was pushing a long, heavy, metal cart with some very intricate equipment on top of it.

"Sorry I'm late," he called as he entered, "this cart is very awkward." That was, of course, a farcical statement. As The Bald Eagle, he could have done high speed figure eights with the cart simply using his mind. He thought opening looking like a clod would make what followed all that more impressive. He rolled the cart in place, and then addressed the gathering. "Gentlemen," he began, as he scanned the group. The security in the room alone spoke to how scarily impressive Warren's connections were. He also was struck to see that _not_ all in attendance were men. There were two _women_ there as well, one dressed in chauffeur's jodhpurs and the other was a beautiful, young woman with silver-blonde hair who appeared not be much older than Peter Parker. "And ladies," he continued, "for the past few weeks, I have been 'test driving' my latest creation. Flowing through my veins are millions of nanoscopic robots that have 'tuned me up', giving me certain," Raven said, as he lifted into the air, "abilities." A smile broadened across Warren's face as he listened to his guests gasp and murmur amongst themselves. From his position over the crowd, Raven lifted his voice and continued, "I am The Bald Eagle you've been reading about the newspapers." Warren's smile disappeared and the crowd got louder. Having a crime fighter in the room was not the kind of news _this_ gathering wanted to hear. To Warren's relief, Raven exercised immediate crowd control. "Please, please, I assure you, my activities of late were only for testing purposes. I wanted to perform acts that no one would want to curb until I was sure of my full capabilities." The group settled but did not seem convinced. Warren gave his own security people the 'stand down' signal for the time being. Raven went on. "Imagine, if I can neutralize a desperate, determined criminal, what I could do to a slack-jawed, semi-retired security guard, or a computer security system," he said, and with a slow, broad wave of his arm, every computer monitor in the lab flicked from what is was displaying to the same large dollar sign. Suddenly, he had won the crowd over again – all of it except one astute individual who was thinking ahead.

"But with Bald Eagle outta the picture," he shouted over the noise around him, "aren't you afraid Spider-Man will come outta hiding?"

"No," was Raven's simple response, "because two nights ago, he already came to see me." The crowd was loud again and what Raven did next made them deafening. He reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out Spider-Man's head piece. Warren couldn't help letting out a giggle that, to Raven, sounded more appropriate coming from a schoolgirl. "And he won't be coming to see me ever again!" Raven yelled over the cheers and clapping. The spring sunshine streamed in from the large lab windows and Raven floated there, soaking it and the applause in.

After a moment he quieted the group and floated back to the floor. "I have another surprise for you," he said. The anticipation built immediately. The investors were 'raven'ous. Professor Raven walked over to the heavy cart and stood behind the equipment. He once again lifted his voice. "This equipment that I have brought with me today," he said, indicating the cart-top technology, "is, in effect, a cold fusion generator." The crowd did not react as Raven had expected. Cold Fusion was the Holy Grail on the energy world. What if was, in simple terms, was the source of the sun's energy, the power created when two atoms fuse together as opposed to nuclear energy which was the power created as a result of atoms splitting apart. The benefits of fusion were few but profound. The generator was compact; it could literally take place on a desktop. It was clean; there was no dangerous by products with a half-life our great-great-great-grandchildren would never live to see the end of. Most of all, it was limitless and self sustaining. Free, unlimited energy; scientists had been searching for this practically since the invention of fire. Randall Raven, with his incredible mental capabilities, had conceived and built a working model literally overnight. Now, he explained why these brutes should be falling over themselves to hear about it. "The nanobots I have created require an enormous amount of energy to create. This device could generate that energy for free and forever!" Finally, the gathering understood the importance of what he was showing them. However, selling them the device was not why Raven brought it here. "Let me give you a demonstration of its power generating capability," Raven shouted over the crowd. Miles Warren immediately saw a flaw in Raven's thinking and, with a sinking feeling, suspected why Raven had picked this lab for his demonstration. He held on to the hope that this was an oversight on the professor's part and if it was, he had better point it out.

"Pardon me, Professor," Warren called, "but if you create a fusion reaction this close to our reactor tower…" Warren didn't have time to finish. Raven confirmed his worst fears: Raven was out to destroy the research, the prototypes, himself, Warren and the investors in one fell swoop. He'd gone mad.

"That's right, Doctor," Raven confirmed, "the resulting shockwave will cause the tower to melt down and explode creating an Electromagnetic Pulse, or EMP, powerful enough to destroy the nanobots, their software, all of my research, which is in this cart, and half of this lab!" In the ensuing panic, no one noticed a red and blue figure swing up to the windows. Seeing this was his cue, Spider-Man crashed through the window, drawing the attention of the people below.

"Can I watch too?" he asked. "This is my favorite part." Spidey swung down to the cart. "I don't want to spoil it, but this is where the mad scientist," he said, indicating Professor Raven, and then, indicating Dr. Warren, said, "gets his revenge on the _other_ mad scientist." Of course, the first 'mad' meant angry and the second 'mad' meant crazy. Spider-Man leaned to Warren and said, "Oh, and by the way, I took care of the babysitters you sent to take care of Professor Raven's son. Two armed thugs? Really? Didn't you think that was a bit excessive?" Spider-Man turned back to the cart. He saw his extra head piece there. He picked it up and asked the professor, "Did I leave this at your place last night?" Then he explained to the crowd, "I'm always doing that."

Warren had had enough of this shtick. "What are you waiting for?" he yelled at the guards. "Get them!" Raven's last act as The Bald Eagle was to make sure all the weapons in the room were melted shut. After that, he got busy with the fusion generator. Crowd control was Spider-Man's detail. With the impending explosion, clearing the room was no problem. Webbing up the bad guys and holding them until authorities arrived took a little more time.

Spider-Man was still stringing up the last ones when the lab blew up. Raven was still inside. He knew destroying the bots inside the professor was supposed to be part of the equation but somehow, Spider-Man thought it could be done later, with some other, less drastic procedure. Spider-Man couldn't believe the professor killed himself just to keep that technology from getting into the wrong hands. Spider-Man stood there in disbelief for quite a while. The sirens of the approaching emergency vehicles snapped him out of it. _Someone had to tell Raven's son_, he thought, and decided it should be him. He swung off to Raven's apartment, not knowing quite what he was going to say.

He knocked at the door and Rejean answered it. Rejean looked a little frightened to see him there again. When Spider-Man had been there earlier, it was to rescue him from the goons Warren had sent. _Was there more trouble_, the boy thought. Rejean let him in. "Rejean," Spider-Man started, "it's about your dad."

"Who's at the door?" a voice called from the other room. Randall Raven walked in, drying what hair there was on his head with a towel after his shower.

"Professor Raven!" Spider-Man exclaimed. "But the EMP … I thought you were …"

"The EMP destroyed the bots," the professor explained, "but it didn't hurt me or my brain. For the time being, I'm still a fully functioning Bald Eagle. Mind you, now that the bots are no longer active, my immune system will flush them out and, without maintenance, my brain and nervous system will return to normal – eventually. As for the blast… Do you remember the energy bubble I used to save us from the propane explosion? Same thing. I made sure everything was gone and then I flew home. I wanted to do that while I still could." Raven smiled at Spider-Man. Then he got serious for a moment. "I probably should lie low until I am back to normal though. Rejean can live with his mom and sisters while I'm gone."

"Good luck, Professor," Spider-Man said, shaking his hand. "When you get back, look me up."

"Will do," Raven promised. "Oh, and one other thing," he said, taking Spider-Man by the arm and leading him out of the room for a private comment, "about Sue Storm; you can forget about her. Seems she's got her eyes on an older prize – a university fella by the name of Richards. Tough luck," Randall said, giving Spidey a pat on the back, "she was quite a catch."

Spider-Man left the apartment and swung off into the city. He had the superhero gig back. With it, The Bugle job would return. With Spidey the only game in town, JJ wouldn't hold out for long. Still no Gwen, but two out of three wasn't bad.

**EPILOGUE**

Choices

Every one of us has a Spider-man inside of us. Every one of us has a rebellious teen who wants to smart mouth adults; an adventure seeker who thrills at danger; a fighter of crime; a hero. The powers within us that allow us to do good are the same powers that allow us to do evil: intelligence, strength, observation, opportunity. Every one of us knows the difference between good and evil and each of us is equally capable of choosing one over the other. Each choice is just as easy as the other to make. Peter Parker is just a high school kid. He needs good grades and so he works hard in school. He needs money and so he works hard at a part-time job. He works at maintaining his friendships and looking for love. Every day, Peter also has to make the same choices we all have to make regarding good and evil; but Peter Parker has been given a great gift, a great power. Every day, Peter Parker makes these choices; but Peter knows that with great power comes great responsibility; and so every day, Spider-man swings again. What choices will you make?

TO BE CONTINUED…

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